


Chance Encounter, A

by Ursula



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, Drama, M/M, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-09-15
Updated: 2002-09-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 09:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11333076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: John Doggett walks into an attorney office and witnesses a shooting. He finds himself with a wounded young officer in need of TLC.





	Chance Encounter, A

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Chance Encounter, A

## Chance Encounter, A

#### by Ursula

Title: A Chance Encounter 

Author/Pseudonym: Ursula 

Fandom: The Commish's Ricky Caruso and the X-File's John Doggett 

Pairing: Vaguely Caruso/Doggett 

Rating: R 

Status: Complete 

Date Posted: 9-14-02 

Archive: Full House, DIB, wherever Ms. Fish would like. 

E-mail address for feedback: Fan4Richie or 

Classification: Drama 

Series/Sequel: Is this story part of a series: Set in the same universe as "Those Who Share One Shield 

Web Site: http://fullhouseslash.slashcity.net/~ursula/ 

Disclaimers: The commish and Ricky Caruso belong to Stephen Cannell and Three Putt Enterprises. Carter, Fox TV, 1013 own Doggett. 

Notes: For Mrs. Fish's birthday! Artist, writer, and friend. Thanks to Bertina for beta. 

Warnings: Slash, crossover, and somewhat schmoopy 

Time Frame: After the Commish ends and before the X-Files. 

A Chance Encounter for Ms. Fish  
From Ursula 

Doggett hadn't even noticed the kid until he heard the shot. John had just walked in the door, in a piss-poor mood about the deposition he was ordered to make. The assistant district attorney was trying to calm him down and John wasn't having it. 

As far as John was concerned, the perp could have been shot down like a mad dog and it would have been more like justice. The creep had killed his girlfriend in a drugged rage then tried to cover it up by setting the house on fire. The worst of it was that he was willing to leave his own kid in the house to make it look like an accidental fire. Thank God, John had meant to talk to the woman about a friend of hers who had been assaulted on the street by a guy on John's wanted list. The woman had refused to talk to him once before, but John was a persistent son of bitch. 

Upon arriving at the house, John had seen the smoke, burst into the home, and found the victim. He had rescued the baby left crying in her crib. The baby was doing fine and hopefully would be adopted by the loving foster home in which she had been placed. 

At the attorney's office, John noticed the black and white outside, but didn't think anything of it. The law office took a mixture of cases, anything from family law to criminal defense. Police were frequently there. 

The shouting however got John's attention. A big man wearing jeans and a tee shirt was roaring although a cop with bright red hair was trying to calm him down. John saw movement a fraction before the dark-haired partner dived to push the scared shitless man in the suit to the floor. The first bullet hit the tall young cop instead of the intended victim. The shooter cursed and fired again. 

John yelled, "Everybody down." 

John was drawing a bead on the shooter when the dark-haired cop came back up and got in his way. The red-haired cop had fallen to his knees, bleeding from the second bullet. The big man had the gun up and, as John fired, the man's own bullet blew most of his head off. 

The wounded cop had enough sense to kick the gun away before catching his partner in his arms. 

"Call for help," the cop said. "Call 911." 

John ran across the room to check the shooter. The man was dead as he expected. John called for paramedics, shouting "Two officers down." He gave the information and dispatched the calmest civilian to watch for the paramedics. 

"Everybody else okay?" John shouted. 

There were no other victims. He moved closer to take over for the wounded cop, but green eyes glared at him, daring him to take his partner from him. 

"Ricky, I'm going to be watching you, love. Don't let me down," gasped the more severely wounded man. 

"I won't. I promise. Don't leave me, Matt," the other man begged. 

Jesus, John thought as the more severely wounded man's eyes rolled back. The guy was drowning in his own blood despite everything that his partner was doing to save him. 

The paramedics roared in and took over, one team working on the chest-shot man and the other taking his partner, forcing him to the floor to work on his injury. 

As more backup arrived, John took over, securing the scene and herding the witnesses into another room to have statements taken. The shooter might be dead, but eventually the dark-haired cop and John would have to face a shooting review. 

OooOooO 

"You okay, kid?" John asked as Caruso walked out of the review room. 

"The name's Ricky or Caruso," the man said flatly. 

"Yeah, sorry," John said. "I'm tellin' you, it doesn't matter how often I go through a shootin' review, I still sweat it." 

Caruso didn't reply. He had that thousand-mile stare that John knew all too well. 

"You eaten?" John asked, noticing the trembling fingers. 

"What?" Caruso asked. 

"Eaten," John repeated. "I didn't get a chance to catch lunch. How about you?" 

"It doesn't matter," Caruso said. "Nothing matters." 

"When's the last time you ate?" John probed. 

"I can't remember," Caruso said. 

Cautiously, John put a hand on Caruso's arm. He said, "Then you're coming with me to get something to eat." 

The green eyes flashed again before the kid shrugged and let John lead him to his car. 

OooOooO 

Mama's was just plain home cooking, but it was just right. She made the fat doughy noodles for her chicken soup fresh every day. The vegetables were tasty and the chicken broth was rich. It was comfort food of the finest kind. 

The big bowl in front of Ricky Caruso remained untouched, but he reached for the bottle of red wine that Angela, Mama's daughter, brought unbidden. John closed his hand over the cork and said, "Food first then you wanna get drunk, I'll drive ya home afterwards." 

Kid had a temper. He was up on his feet in a second and snarled, "Fuck you, you aren't my daddy, Doggett." 

Mama arrived out of the kitchen and grabbed Caruso by the ear. "Would your mama let you talk that way?" 

The big Italian woman had made just the right move. Caruso looked down, muttered "Sorry" and sat back down. 

"Eat your soup," Mama scolded. 

Caruso wilted back into his seat and picked up a spoon just like that. 

Caruso was a good-looking kid, Doggett thought, despite being an emotional wreck. 

"Bread's good too," Doggett said. He tore off a hunk and plunked it on the young cop's plate. 

A faint smile flickered on the kid's lips. Man, Caruso was a babe. How old was the kid? 

"You new to the precinct?" Doggett asked. 

"Been here for almost a year. I used to be out in Eastbridge," Caruso mumbled. Now that he was eating, he was eating fast. A tall thin guy like that needs to put it away on a regular basis and it was obvious that Caruso had not been doing that. 

"Tony Scali still run Eastbridge?" John asked, remembering the roly-poly eccentric police commissioner that ran the police force in the town. Scali was a peculiar guy who liked things his way. He was a good cop, not much of a politician, which Doggett had appreciated when he was in Eastbridge working on a case. 

"Yeah, he sure does," Caruso said, with a slight smile. "Scali is something else." 

"Yeah, he is," John said. "It's a freakin' different show here." 

"That's right. Matt said it was like going from a Mom and Pop store to working for Macys," Caruso said. 

Matt King had been Ricky's partner. Since the killing, John had heard a little talk that the two took the word further than the normal meaning. King and Caruso had been sharing digs. 

It wasn't any skin off John's back. He didn't have a problem with it. Hell, there was a time or two...but never mind that. 

"I heard that King was a good cop," John offered. 

"Man, he was the best!" Caruso said. "Matt aced the tests for promotion. We were going go to the FBI together as soon as I got my master's degree." 

John had an application in to the FBI himself. He was interested in serial killers for a personal reason and the FBI seemed like the way to go about it. 

Caruso's mouth tightened and he blinked several times very hard. He gulped down more of the soup before pouring a glass of the wine. 

John had a glass himself but stopped there because he was driving. Besides he was more of a beer drinker himself. He figured any good Italian kid should be able to handle his wine, but Caruso started slurring his words on the third glass. 

"You still going to apply to the FBI when you're finished with your classes?" John asked. 

"Without Matt?" Caruso asked. 

"Seems like he wanted you to do it," John said. 

A dark stormy look came over Caruso's face. He stood up and threw some crumpled bills on the table. "You didn't know Matt. You don't know about losing someone that...someone that you can't even imagine living without." 

Kid deserved a spanking for running off at the mouth like that. John added his money to the heap and winked at Mama to promise an explanation later. 

Caruso had just remembered that he didn't have his car. He was standing on the curb looking like he was considering stepping in front of the next car. 

John said, "Well, I didn't know Matt King, but from what I hear he was a good cop and never a quitter. It takes guts to come out as a gay cop in a tough New York precinct. Shame he picked a partner that didn't have guts." 

Catching the drunken swing, John let the attempted blow swing Caruso's weight into his tall, lean body. The young cop folded into him, wet streaks flowing from his cheeks to John's. John held him a moment or two until Caruso straightened up on his own. 

"I wasn't going to jump in front of the cars," Caruso said. "I may be an asshole sometimes but I wouldn't do that to some poor jerk." 

Whoa, Caruso must be psychic or something. John said, "I know that." He shrugged and said, "Well, I do now. It sure looked like you were thinking about it. Get in my car. I'll give you a ride home." 

OooOooO 

Caruso leaned back against the seat, far away expression in his eyes. He said, "I don't want to go home." 

"I'll take you to my place," John said. Hell, he wasn't doing anything and he had the weekend off. 

Two hours later, John pulled into his parking spot. The apartment was a dump, but the underground parking was worth the shortcomings of the high priced studio apartment. As they got out, Caruso looked suddenly green and ran to a trash barrel. He didn't quite make it and his suit was going to need emergency treatment. 

"Come on, we better get you out of that and drop this across the street at the cleaners. They're good and cheap," John advised. 

Caruso nodded, looking very embarrassed and spat to get the taste out of his mouth. 

Holding his breath in the elevator, John hoped like hell that Caruso had emptied his stomach. Although John was far from squeamish, riding ten floors with a vomiting man was too much of a test even for his iron stomach. 

Caruso made it to apartment. John hurried him into the bathroom and gave him sweats to wear. The suit went into an old dry cleaning bag. John found a spare toothbrush and said, "This won't take long. Make yourself at home." 

Taking the soiled suit, John carried it back down the elevator. Stopping to pet the stray cat that he occasionally fed against his better judgment, John wondered whether he was getting soft-headed as he grew older. Stray cats, stray young cops, what was next? Standing on the corner banging a gong for Krishna? 

OooOooO 

Caruso's head was wet when John came back. The kid was slumped on the couch channel surfing. John asked, "Any thing on?" 

"Hmm?" Caruso answered. He looked at the remote and the TV as if he hadn't seen them before. "I don't know. Maybe there's a game on." 

Caruso rubbed his arm and winced. "Hurts like a son of a bitch." 

"First time?" Doggett asked. 

"Yeah," Caruso said. "I always thought I was born lucky, but maybe not. Some lady called. Barbara? She said you have some mail at her place." 

"My ex," John said. "It's probably just some alumni stuff. They never can find me for that. Didn't have a problem with trackin' me for my student loan." 

"Shit, don't say loan!" Caruso cried. "I just barely started my master's program and I already owe an arm and a leg." 

"Yeah, I would still be payin' if it wasn't for the GI bill," John said. 

"I saw all the marine stuff," Caruso said. "I thought about the Marines, but there was that opening in Eastbridge PD right after I graduated. I come from a long line of cops and firemen. Family business so to speak." 

"You ever think about doing anything different?" John asked. He wanted a beer, but wasn't sure if he should crack one open in front of Caruso. Finally, deciding that he really needed that beer, Doggett asked, "You want a beer?" 

Caruso made a face and said, "No thanks, the wine was bad enough. I hope you don't think that's my usual style?" 

Happily sipping his beer, John peered at the basketball game on the screen. "Who ya rootin' for?" 

"Knicks, I guess," Caruso said. 

"I'm a Hawks fan myself," John said. "They beat the shit out of the Celtics a time or two." 

"Yeah, I saw them play once. Not bad," Caruso said. "Matt and I went to a Celtics/Hawk game." 

"Yeah?" John said. 

"Matt wasn't tall, but, man, you should have seen him play," Caruso said. "He was good, quick, and mean. We play a lot of two on two." Caruso's face fell. "We used to. I mean... I know cops die. Couple of my buddies in Eastbridge bought it like that. Scali said you never get used to it. You think that's right?" 

"I don't know. I haven't," John answered. He said, "You think you can eat something? I think you lost most of your dinner." 

"I don't know. Maybe. What do you have?" Caruso asked. 

"Sandwich stuff, let me look," John said. He peered into his refrigerator. "Got some turkey, some leftover lasagna." 

"Turkey sandwich sounds good," Caruso said. 

John slapped one together and put it on a plate. There was some ginger ale too that a recent date had left. John grabbed a can and handed it to Caruso. "My mom used to swear by this stuff for an upset stomach." 

"Mine used flat coke," Caruso said. He moved to the small table to eat. John joined him. He hadn't eaten much today either so a sandwich would hit the spot. 

"Caruso, I used to know a Rudy Caruso," John said. "Worked in the Bronx. 

"Probably my Uncle Rudy," Ricky said. "He retired about a year back. He's working part time for some group home though. Still putting a kid through college." 

There was a silence that seemed to stretch forever. Caruso had finished the sandwich and ginger ale. He stood up and washed the plates and whatever else was in the sink. John let him, knowing what it felt like to have the moment weighing on you like lead. You tried to fill the hollow inside with the world pressing in on you until you felt that you would collapse with the relentless gravity. Any distraction was welcome. 

"I guess you heard things about Matt and me," Caruso said. 

"I heard that you were good cops and great partners," John said. 

"That's not what I meant," Caruso replied. He sat down, long legs sprawled wide. One hand rubbed at one of his elfin eyebrows. 

"Anything else is your business, Caruso," John said. 

"Ricky," the boy said. "Since I'm wearing your clothes and ate your food." 

"Is that for Richard or..." John asked. 

"Enrico," Ricky said. "Papa gave us all good Italian names. It's Italian for Henry, I guess." 

"You don't look Italian," John said. 

Ricky snorted and said, "My mom is half Irish. Daughter of a cop." 

Yawning, Ricky slumped back. John said, "The couch is too short for you. You can share my bed if you don't mind." 

"Yeah, fine, thanks," Ricky said. 

John went to change into his usual sleeping garb, comfortable flannel pants and an old Marine corps tee shirt. When he came out, Ricky was already in bed. The sweatshirt was hung from a chair. John lifted the cover and slid under. 

Ricky was staring at the ceiling, his naked arm wound around his head. Most of his torso was bare. John looked over, not as uncomfortable with the intimacy as he expected. 

"When I got divorced, it took weeks to get used to sleepin' alone," John remarked. 

Ricky looked over and said, "I haven't slept since it happened. I went home, looked at the bed and went back out, just drove around all night. I'm gonna move. I just can't stand being there without him." 

Closing his eyes for a few moments, John opened them as he felt Ricky staring at him. He sighed and said, "Yeah?" 

"You ever do it with a guy?" Ricky asked. 

"Maybe," John admitted. 

"Matt was the only one for me," Ricky said. "I knew I liked him a lot and, at first, it was like I was doing him a favor." A short bitter laugh punctuated that. "What a creep I can be. A favor..." 

John reached over to pat Ricky's shoulder. An instant later, he had an armful of the boy. He wasn't sure who made the first move to kiss, but he wasn't the first to pull away. Ricky kissed like he meant it. You could lose yourself in his eyes. His lips were soft as a woman's although he didn't kiss like one. 

Looking down, John caressed the side of Ricky's face. "It's goin' be okay," he said. 

"I never even let him inside me," Ricky said. "I never said I loved him." 

"He knew," John said. Ricky's face buried itself in his neck. John's hand stroked Ricky's trembling back. 

"Fuck me," Ricky said raggedly. "I want you to fuck me." 

Wiggling out of his sweatpants in a move that was startlingly swift, Ricky pushed the covers away. He was naked and John found him beautiful. 

Ricky's hand reached for John's waistband, but John pushed it away. "No," he said. "I'm not your punishment for whatever you imagine you owed your lover." 

Eyes flashing, Ricky tapped the bulge beneath the thin flannel. He said, "I know you want to." 

"Yeah, well, wantin' it and doin' it are two different things. Now you show up here in a few months and you offer, I'd be there in a New York minute, but not now. Not because you're hurtin' so bad that you'd do anything to stop feelin' it for a short while," John said. He wanted to kick himself for refusing, but he wasn't a guy who gave himself much slack. There's right and there's wrong, not too much gray in the middle. He thought Ricky was going to get up and run or maybe pick a fight by the way he tensed up. 

Surprising him, Ricky instead relaxed and said, "Guess I picked the right guy to be an idiot with." 

John laughed at that. "Yeah, well, I'll be regrettin' being a good guy when I think about this." 

The kid settled back to sleep in John's arms. John slept too after the ache in his balls faded. That was all there was to it. 

OooOooO 

The round face of the Commish looked open and innocent, but John knew that Scali was tough and smart. Scali said, "Thanks for driving Ricky down here." 

"No problem," John said. "I figured he should be with someone who knew about him and his partner." 

Turning to Ricky, Scali's big blues narrowed. He said, "Ricky, you should have talked to your family. They would have understood." 

Shaking his head, Ricky said, "They're Italian-Irish Catholics, sir. You know how that is." 

"Yes, but I told my folks that I was going to marry Rachel and let her raise the kids Jewish. They handled it. Don't be telling me that it isn't the same," Scali said. 

Ricky rolled his eyes, but his faint smile said Scali's bully tactics felt like home to him. 

John held out his hand for Ricky to shake, but the kid pulled him in close for a hug. Ricky whispered, "You just watch your door. I might take you up on that offer in a few months." 

John hugged back before climbing back in the car. As he backed out of the driveway, the sun hit Ricky's hair, the light creating a halo around the beautiful face. 

Shaking his head, John grumbled, "I got to be nuts. Next time, to hell with the right thing." 

But John knew that he was lying to himself. He wasn't the kind to go easy on himself or anyone else. He hoped the kid would be okay and he hoped he would be back. 

The end. 

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Ursula 


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